Waiting In The Mirror
by maggalina
Summary: All his life Tom Riddle waited for his father to come out of the mirror and save him.


He had been told all his life that his mother's last words were that she hoped he looked like his father. He liked to think so. Stockwell Orphanage had at least some connection to his mother, and she had named him after all. His father though was an enigma. He had no clue if he was dead, sick, knew of his existence or was unaware. All he knew was his name was Tom Riddle, and his mother hoped that he looked like him.

He would sit in his room and try to image himself older, he would stare into the mirror. A couple times he had sworn his face had actually changed. That he had subtle wrinkles and his hair was starting to turn silver as it slowly retreated up his forehead. Other features were subtly changed too, he looked older. When he blinked though it was as if it had never happened. Almost like magic but that was silly. He wondered if his dad had a good imagination too.

In the room next to Tom lived Amelia. Amelia was four years older then him. She had long straight red hair and dark green eyes that showed her emotions better then her words ever could, she had a Scottish accent that you didn't hear around London very often and it was nice to hear her read to her little sister through the walls some days. One of these times when Tom was listening Amelia was reading a story about this girl named Sara. This Sara lived in a boarding school and was very very rich. The headmistress hated her because she was so rich. Amelia was starting to read about some girl named Becky when Tom shifted his leg and accidentally knocked over a book from his bookcase. The book fell on his foot and Tom let out a yell of surprise and fell on the wall.

The story telling stopped. Tom knew he had been found eavesdropping. He heard a small knock on the door. Amelia slowly opened the door and poked her head in.  
"Are you okay? I heard you fall."

"I'm fine. I wasn't eavesdropping."

"It's okay if you were. Do you want to come into my room to hear it?"

And so Tom went into Amelia's room and sat on her floor as she read to him and her sister. This went on for a couple of weeks until they finished the story. A week after they finished the book Amelia's uncle found them and took them away. He never saw her again. She left him her copy of 'A Little Princess' when she left and he kept it with him for the next few years. He loved the idea of a mysterious stranger or family member coming to save didn't care it was a girl book. He wanted to find his own Mr. Carrisford or some mysterious uncle to save him. And so Tom waited.

He waited for a Riddle or a Marvolo or a Tom. Anyone. As he went from six to seven and seven to eight and eight to nine he would lose hope that anyone would ever come and save him. Even if there was anyone out there, they were probably too poor for a nuisance like him.

The more he waited though, the more he imagined what his dad was like. He would look in the mirror and try to picture the man. He started to build a personality for him that changed with Tom. He liked to imagine his dad could do weird things too. He wondered if his dad had ever talked to snakes and if he could tell him why. All this time sitting in front of the mirror, waiting. For years he remained vigilant. He would listen for any knock at the door hoping someone would come to rescue him.

Children came and went some rescued and some abandoned. Eventually Tom gave up hope. He had waited too long. The Little Princess sat in his wardrobe gathering dust. Abandoned with the idea of anyone coming out of the mirror.

* * *

A few months after his eleventh birthday there was a knock on the orphanage door. Tom no longer cared. He was more interested in making the other kids miserable. He was sitting on his bed avoiding eye contact with the mirror when there was a knock on his door and a strange man entered. He had auburn hair, slightly darker than Amelia's had been. He told him that he was a wizard and wanted him to attend a special school. He was filled with a brief glimmer of hope that he was being saved before he realized that he only came to take away because Mrs. Cole thought he was crazy. He told the man he did not believe him and when demanded to prove it the man lit his wardrobe on fire. All he could see was the burning pages of his book.

No words could explain the relief Tom felt after he saw nothing was harmed. He had to return the other items but his book was safe, and his hope in a savior was renewed, only to a brief extent due to the amount of repression it had been under but the spark was there. The fire grew as Tom realized why no one had come for him. His father must be magical! He must not know he could do magic too or maybe he didn't even know of his existence. He didn't hold any hope his mother was magical though, otherwise she wouldn't have died and left him.

Time passed as Tom went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He researched his father and tried to find any mention of him. He could look at the mirror again and not be filled with hopelessness. He knew now that there had to be someone out there who wanted him. He never let any of this emotion and hope show though. To his fellow Slytherins he remained a powerful member of their house. To the teachers his was the polite brilliant boy with the tragic past. To himself though he was the powerful boy who only wanted to be wanted.

The day he found out that there was no record of a Tom Riddle anywhere in Hogwarts history nearly cracked his frozen heart. He accepted his father was a muggle but he no longer accepted his father. He rejected his name and could not look into a mirror without feeling filthy and disgusting. He looked like a common muggle. In fact he probably was a common mudblood. He hated himself more than anything.

In order to feel anything but utter revulsion at the blood running through his veins he looked into his middle name, Marvolo. What he discovered filled him with ideas of power and glory. He now had no worries about muggle blood. For no blood of a muggle could survive touching the blood of Salazar Slytherin. That summer when he returned to the orphanage he had plans. He avoided everyone else like the plague. He read all he could about Slytherin and The Chamber of Secrets.

What better way to disassociate himself with muggles by killing their unworthy spawn.  
He returned to school with full knowledge of how this year would go. He would go into the bathroom that used to be Slytherin's private bath and he would open the Chamber.

Unfortunately it was located in a girl's washroom but what better to keep suspicion away from himself in the case that they locate the entrance. The first time he entered was long after curfew, he cast a muffled Lumos and looked around the taps for something that would give it away as Slytherin's. He caught a look at himself in the mirror.

"Your blood will not poison mine. I will eradicate you and all those like you. You are not worthy to be my father. I am Lord Voldemort and I am NOT your son. I waited for you for years and you never came. Now I am abandoning you. You killed my childhood but I will kill you. After I finish with the school, you are next on my list," he sneered at the mirror. He waited for the day he could do something to further distance himself from the man but he would have to wait, he had work to do.

* * *

He had only managed to kill one muggleborn but he would wait for some kind of opportunity in the future. If there was one thing he father was good for it was that he had learned to wait but never to trust or put hope in anyone else. With his plans for the school on hold for the immediate future he set his eyes on his other goal. To kill his father. He knew the location of the Gaunt shack-as ashamed as he was that his relatives had been reduced to a shack regardless of their noble blood-and he knew his sperm donor would have to live around there.

He traveled to Little Hangleton and found his Uncle Morfin. He knew immediately he had found the person who would take the blame. Morfin let Voldemort know at once what he thought of Tom Riddle and he wasn't bright either. He disposed of his uncle and took his wand and went to confront his other set of 'relatives'. A few years back he may have been upset at the fact that he had a magical ancestor who didn't give a damn about him either but he was past caring. He had wasted his time waiting for anyone of them to show up and he wouldn't give them any more time.

He went to the big house. The door was unlocked, pathetic Muggles. He saw portraits of these people lining their entrance way. He heard an older woman call down the stairs, "Frank, is that you? I don't need any gardening down today. You did such a good job yesterday you can have the day off."

At that a man walked of a room somewhere to the side. He immediately turned to the side facing the stairs. "Mother dear, you can't go letting servants have the day off. How ever will they learn their place?"

"I am no servant of yours, Father." Voldemort accented the final word with disgust. Tom Riddle turned to face Voldemort confusion on his face at the words and then at the fact that he appeared to be looking in a mirror.

Mr. and Mrs. Riddle came down the stairs dressed in their dinner clothes, stopping halfway down the stairs when they saw the young man inside their entryway.

"I am not a mirror, Father, Grandfather, Grandmother," addressing them all with the same air of disgust dripping from every syllable, "This man was nothing but a mirror to me though. A grubby mirror in a grubby orphanage. I was always told my mother wished that I looked like you. I took that as hope. I looked in a mirror and saw hope. Hope that my father would come and save me. But he never did. And I grew up, alone and abandoned. Now I see the thing I waited for and I was right in my decision to give up hope. You are nothing but a muggle to me. You are no longer my father. Now no one said that this would be easy but I hope it is. Avada Kedavra!"

His grandparents were shocked. They tried to beg for their lives. But nothing could help them.  
And with that Voldemort's soul was torn again. He had killed his father and grandparents like flies. And he felt no regret. He felt exhilarated. He had learned in that moment that there is no right or wrong, only power.

* * *

Years later he finally shed the face of his father. He had broken the mirror. And he was finally done waiting, the thing he had waited the longest for was done.

* * *

Written For Camp Potter: Archery Challenge using the prompts;

Waiting

Right or wrong. Red Vigilance Dialogue, "No one said it would be easy."

GO RIDDLE CABIN!

As much as I love favourites I would really like to know why you like it so much so leave a review if you please :)


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